Matchmaker: Tales from a Yrutnec Fag Hag
by Gothic Author
Summary: [SLASH CONTENT] I came into it trying to help a friend. I never asked to get caught up in the middle of it all. But I am, and now I'm stuck. Such is the life of a turn-of-the-century fag hag.
1. Prologue: You Wouldn't Believe It

**Disclaimer:** This is Fanfiction.net... These are called fanfics for a reason... If you don't understand that, you shouldn't be here...****

**Matchmaker: Prologue**

**You Wouldn't Believe It...******

I'm a girl. Living with a bunch of guys. Yeah. You want to make something of it?

I felt that way, too, back when I first met them. I mean, come on. One girl. Fifty boys. Sleeping in the same room and sometimes sharing bunks. I'm crazy, right?

But seriously, nothing happened. You wouldn't believe it, but these guys are _so sweet_. Yeah, sweet. Newsies. The same ones who go around cracking jokes and beating people up. Yeah. Who would've thought? 

Anyhow, I trust them now. I mean, Jack beat Morris up 'cause the guy "looked at you the wrong way". You can't get friendlier than that. Not that I'm in love with him or anything. Don't get me wrong! I _love_ him and all, but... He's just too much of a brother, you know what I'm saying? You know what I'm saying.

But some of these other guys, you know... They're just too cute. I mean, look at Racetrack! All right. Maybe I'm just saying that to annoy him. But seriously. He's funny and cute and Italian... Then there's Mush, who's just your ideal male specimen. Physically, anyway. Honestly, though, he's the sweetest guy ever. Blink gets a little rowdy sometimes, but he's still really nice. And who can forget the all-mighty Spot Conlon? That boy has got to be one of the most _gorgeous guys I have ever laid eyes on in my __life. _

Fine. I'll admit it. I have mad crushes on basically all of them. I mean, which _sane_ girl wouldn't? Or insane girl, for that matter? 'Cause I ain't all _that sane, if you catch my drift..._

But that's beside the point.

Anyhow, you wouldn't believe it. You just wouldn't believe it... 

All these adorable, sweet boys, they're all in love with each other. Yup. Cross my heart and hope to die.

We don't talk about it much, but I think most of them know that I've got it figured out. I mean, they're not as secretive as they used to be. Around me, anyways.

Yeah. Imagine that. And all these big, tough guys, they get all shy and coy with each other, and it's all cute and adorable and everything, but you just want to throttle them 'cause they're so obviously obvious, and it just makes me sick, you know what I'm saying? Don't get me wrong. I don't have a problem with it or nothing... I mean, the whole boys liking boys thing. Okay, maybe it does bug me a little, but that's only because I'm a little jealous, you know? Yeah. I don't mind admitting stuff like that. It gets obvious after awhile anyway, you know?

But anyhow, that's where I got the idea from. You know, to set them up. Since they don't seem to be able to do it themselves, I'll do it _for_ them. 

That's what friends are for, right?

I mean, it's not like _I got anything to lose? _

Right?

If FFN messes up my formatting again, I'm not going to bother anymore, so if this is a little weird... Yeah.

**Gothic Author**


	2. Chapter One: Confessions of a Secret Adm...

**Disclaimer: If I owned "Newsies", it actually would've gotten publicized.**

**Matchmaker: Chapter One**

**Confessions of a Secret Admirer**

February 14. St. Valentine's Day, Lover's Day, whatever you want to call it. A day of stolen kisses and romantic strolls beneath the silver moonlight. A day of hearts and flowers and all that other lovey dovey junk. 

And last but certainly not the least, it was a day of confessions. For Racetrack, at least.

Too bad it rained. 

Ha. I crack myself up sometimes. 

It positively _poured_.__

On such dreary days, and trust me, it was very dreary indeed, papes can't be sold. Even if anyone were mad enough to even stick their head outside, I doubt very much that they would bother to buy a soggy, waterlogged bunch of pulp, which is what our neat stacks would've become within about five seconds. We had woken to rain pounding on our drafty windows and the sound of thunder rolling across the skies. By noon, it still hadn't let up, so we'd given up on any hope of food for the day. Ain't it grand to be dirt poor? 

Course, Kloppman keeps some food in the pantry for days like this, and he ain't a bad cook or nothing, don't get me wrong. There just ain't enough to go around. I don't blame him or nothing, 'cause, honestly, how much do you make taking care of a bunch of street rats like us? 

Yeah. Well, the older ones are real good about it, though. We usually let the young'uns have the food. 'Cause we're so sweet and caring, you know? But being nice sure don't fill your stomach up...

Anyhow. We were all hanging out at the lodging house. I mean, we really couldn't have gone anywhere else, what with the weather and everything. There really wasn't much to do, though. It was one of those storms where it was just light enough to see people's expressions but not enough to actually see what you're doing, you know what I'm talking about? And it's not like we could afford to waste light just 'cause it was dark. Somebody - I think it was Snipeshooter - tried to start a game of marbles in a corner, but it wasn't going so well. I mean, it's kind of hard to play when you can't see. Then, one of them accidentally hit Blink, and the game stopped right then and there. You don't make Blink mad. You just don't. Unless you're Mush, but that's a different story...

Usually, I would've been right there with them, setting up a poker game by the window with Race or something. But that was the key phrase. With Race. Setting up a poker game without Racetrack takes the fun out of it. There's no risk, you know what I'm saying? The bets never go over five cents without him. Besides, he didn't look like he was willing to share his cards today. 

"Boy, I'm bored," I said, hinting to Race and failing. He sat beside me, concentrating on a game of solitaire. Honestly, he's such a selfish pig sometimes...

"Mm." 

I looked over his shoulder at the game. He didn't look like he was getting anywhere with it. I mean, he'd been at it for at least an hour. Not that I knew the time or nothing, but it sure felt like it.

The bum hadn't even started.

I turned to him, eyebrow raised, and noticed his expression. You know that look that people get when they're concentrating hard on something that has nothing to do with what's in front of their face at the moment? Yeah. That's what he looked like.

"Thinkin' 'bout someone?" I teased. Race stared at race forms more than he ever stared at girls. Not that that's saying much.

He suddenly blinked, and his eyes cleared up. "What?"

I rolled my eyes. Good to know that he's heard every word I've said today. Not that I did say much, you understand, but it's just... Aw, never mind.

"Ya thinkin' 'bout someone?"

"'Course not! Why would I do dat?" he said quickly. A little _too_ quickly.

"Who is it?" I asked, intrigued. When Race was stuck on someone enough to be distracted from his cards, that someone had to be pretty special. "Come on! Tell me! You were dreamin' about someone! I can tell!"

"Yeah, Sneaks..." he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I was dreamin' 'bout Spot Conlon, I was. He's got me head over heels for him."

I stared at him. "You're jokin'!" I knew he was, of course, but annoying Racetrack is a _lot_ of fun. First, he gets this _look_ on his face, like a stop-being-an-idiot look. It's real comical, and he gets so mad when you start laughing at him, 'cause you just _got to, you know? Then he starts gesturing all over the place with that look on his face. Swear he almost took my eye out once. It's probably how Blink lost his... Anyway, if you keep it up long enough, he'll start raging up and down the lodging house like nobody's business. It's __hilarious, especially 'cause he's so __short, and his temper's even shorter than he is, and he's just the cutest little thing when he's aggravated, and he hates it when you point it out to him..._

Aw... Come on! I was _bored_!

"Of course I was jokin', ya bonehead!" he replied, words clipped in annoyance. But if he _was_ joking, why was there a panicked edge to his voice? And why in the _world was he turning such a remarkable shade of red?_

"Race?" I said after a very long pause, during which he had turned back to his cards, still blushing furiously. 

"Yeah?" he mumbled back, sounding depressed and grumpy.

"You really weren't kiddin', were you?" I asked seriously. The silence that ensued was enough to confirm my suspicions. "Well, then..." What was I supposed to say? Racetrack Higgins was in love with Spot Conlon. A boy. And not just any boy, oh no, but _Spot Conlon! Who had every girl in New York State chasing after him, by the way..._

"So..." I broke the silence again. "What're you gonna do about it?"

He whipped around so fast, I swear he must've gotten whiplash from the air alone, and he stared at me as if I'd grown a third head or something. It was a bit alarming.

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You mean... Ya don't mind or nothin'? It don' bothah youse dat I like a guy?" 

It was then that I noticed just how tensed up he was underneath that sullen posture. I thought about my reply carefully. "No... No, it don't. I mean, we get all kinds of people in the lodging house. If it now includes fellas who like uddah fellas, then..." I shrugged to emphasize my point. "I wouldn't say nothin' to da uddah guys, though. _They might get a liddle paranoid 'bout it."_

He suddenly relaxed, like he just realized that he'd gambled right and hadn't just lost a week's pay. I can understand that. I mean, how often do you say to your friends, "Hey, I like other guys. You don't mind, do you?" Well, _I'm_ supposed to like guys, but... You know what I'm saying. He settled back into a more comfortable position, tired of hunching over.

"So... Whaddaya think I should do about it?" he asked in a conversational tone, as if nothing had happened.

"Have you talked ta Spot yet?" I didn't know how guys work, but, I mean, you got to talk to a person first if you want to establish a relationship, right?

He scoffed. "Of course not! What are ya, outta yore mind?" He paused for a moment, looking real thoughtful. From the look on his face, I could tell it was one of those plans that sounded logical but probably wouldn't work. See, it's the insane plans that light a spark in your eyes that always end up working. Don't ask me why. "Could you... Could you maybe talk to him _for_ me?"

It was my turn to scoff. "What're ya, stupid?" I demanded. "Don't you know anything? When you like somebody, you don't ask someone else ta tell 'em. Go tell 'im yourself!" I wasn't sure if it was just me or whatever, but I'll be _damned_ if I ever even _consider_ delivering a message like _that_ to Spot Conlon. Yeah, I can see it already.

"Hey, Spot," I'll say. "Ya probably heah dis all da time, but my best friend's in love witchou."

"Wha' she look like?" he'll ask.

"Naw. You know 'im. Racetrack Higgins."

A look of incredulous amusement would cross his face. "Racetrack Higgins? _Race_? Da Italian charmer who's stolen quite a few goils from me, includin' yore beautiful self, if I'm not mistaken?" 

All right. So humor me. You never know. It could happen. He could call me beautiful. I sigh and dream of the day...

Then I'd say, "Da one an' da same."

Then Spot would laugh his ass off, saying that it had to be one of my best jokes ever. 

"Naw, man! I'm serious!" I would cry in frustration.

Then he'd get serious and say, "Come on, now, Sneaks. It ain't funny no more."

"It ain't supposed to be funny! I ain't jokin' witcha, Spot!" Of course, being the girl that I am, I would now be on the verge of tears. Ha. The day I cry in front of a guy is the day that we're all walking in the sky.

"Get outta here! I nevah wanna see you again, ya heah?!" He'd get angry and blame it all on the messenger, namely _me, and __I'd be the one with the honor of leaving headless. Not to mention the one to get the brunt of the punishment._

Or things can happen the way Race probably dreams about it, and as soon as I tell him, Spot will skip all the way to Manhattan or Coney Island or wherever Race is and say, "I've felt that way about you since we were two, Race, and I've been hoping that you'd feel the same way about me," and then proceed to sweep Race off his feet and give him a whopping kiss in public. 

I _really _wonder which scenario is more likely to occur.

Racetrack sighed. "I was gonna go ta Brooklyn an' tell 'im taday, 'cause it's Valentine's an' all, but what wit da storm an' everythin'..." He shrugged. "I jus' don' think I'll evah be able ta convince myself ta do it again, let alone actually _do it."_

Why is it that he has _such_ a talent for making you feel horrible without meaning to?

I thought about it hard. There was no way I'd be willing to get my head bitten off by Spot Conlon for Race. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'd give my life for him, but pissing Spot Conlon off is another matter all together. However, it'd be completely evil of me to tell him to go alone. That meant... "All right," I decided. "I ain't tellin' Spot _for you, but I'll go witchou ta lend... uh... moral support."_

"Why _can't_ you just go for me?" he whined, pleading me with his big, doleful, brown eyes, successfully breaking my heart and my resolve all over again. I am _such a sucker for pitiful faces._

"I'd lie about it to spare you," I warned. "You know I would." And I really would. You have _not seen Racetrack depressed before. You don't ever __want to see him depressed. It's as contagious as his laughter, and before you know it, the entire lodging house is in tears over a broken nail. _

He grinned ruefully. "Yeah, you would, wouldn't you?" He sighed and stared off into space for a moment before answering me. "Yeah, I'll come. But you'll probably hafta do most o' da talkin' anyway."

I laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Wit my beggin' skills an' yore pitiful face, how could he resist?"

Okay... Well, _that_ was a piece of crap... Like I said, my dialogue muse is dead, and I actually had to make the entire thing up _by myself_. [sigh] The next chapter will be better... I hope... 

And yes, I know, I'm a pitifully slow updater ("Pitiful", apparently, is my word of the day...). However, I have neither the time nor the talent to churn out a chapter a week. Just stick with me, and I promise it'll go somewhere sometime... 

Please review! To those who have reviewed, much gratitude and 24 hours with your favorite newsie(s) to you! 

**Gothic Author**


	3. Chapter Two: Confronting the Monster

**Disclaimer: **If I owned "Newsies", it'd be a Broadway show, and I'd be in it.

**Matchmaker: Chapter Two**

**Confronting the Monster**

"Race! Sneaks! What're youse two bummahs doin' heah, huh?"

Leave it to Spot to give people warm, heartfelt greetings. Okay, so maybe his greetings were heartfelt, but they sure didn't have to be warm. Which, in our case, it was, but if we'd been anyone else... You get the point.

"Heya, Spot," I replied, grinning. He grinned back. I could just die... It was clear why Race had fallen for him. The guy's gorgeous! Dirty blonde hair, striking blue eyes, pouting lips... Not to mention a wiry frame and the poise of a king. 

"How's it rollin'?" He spat in his palm, and waited for me to return the salute. I obliged and grinned again, trying to hide the fluttering butterflies and the uneasiness that dampened it ever so slightly - not a great feeling, let me tell you. Where'd Race go? I might as well have come all alone by myself for all the good he was doing... He was _there_, 'cause I was hanging on to his arm, but why wasn't the idiot saying anything? Trust Race to chicken out on me at a time like this. The bum was probably trying to hide behind me, looking like a rat surrounded by hungry cats or something. 

By Spot's raised eyebrow, I could tell that he had noted Race's undoubted terror. That's not good... He'd noticed that Racetrack wasn't being Racetrack. Race is always open and forward, cocky to a fault but friendly nonetheless. Besides, the guy was from Brooklyn. There was no reason for him to be scared. Well, there _was, obviously, or he wouldn't have left, but that ain't got nothing to do with me. For a minute, I considered giving him a good, hard whack upside the head. The way he was carrying on, Spot would think we were there to kill him or something. Course, it wouldn't be __that far from the truth, but there was no reason to get him all suspicious and paranoid or nothing. _

But I couldn't do it. One look at his pitiful, pale little face, and I went all soft again. I am _such a _sucker_ for pitiful faces. Especially Race's. He's got that way of making it look extra vulnerable, like a toddler kid... _Les_ couldn't even pull it off if he tried, which is why it's mighty confusing why Jack doesn't sell with Race instead. I mean, sure, Les was younger-looking, but Race is undoubtedly the better hawker. What can I say? The kid has more experience. _

Anyway, I remembered his reaction when I'd told him we were going to Brooklyn that morning and decided not to push him too hard. 

"Taday? But... We didn't sell yestahday! I gotta sell taday..." he'd said, looking like I'd just told him it was the end of the world and clutching at his papes like they was his stairway to heaven or something. 

I'd rolled my eyes at him. "We'll sell on da way _dere, genius," I'd told him. "An' yes, we hafta go taday, or ya won't even have a remnant o' all dat courage ya scraped tageddah. Now, c'mon!" _

I'd grabbed his wrist and dragged him along, determined to get him to Brooklyn. We'd had a little heart-to-heart last night, and he'd told me he'd been feeling that way for awhile now. Now, Race ain't the most patient of men, but when it comes to love... Let's just say that "awhile" doesn't exactly mean a month, you know what I'm saying? So, in my good, righteous opinion, I decided right then and there that "awhile" was _way too long and that I would knock him out and carry him to Brooklyn the next day if I had to. _

Of course, I hadn't told _him_ that. 

So here I was, an oddly silent and fidgety Racetrack in tow, trying to find the right words for this... this... _this_. 

"Listen, Spot, uh..." I sneaked a glance at Racetrack. The boy had his hat in hand and was wringing the poor thing to death. "Could we talk ta ya fa a minute, huh?"

"Sure t'ing," Spot said cheerily. Today must be a good day. I wasn't too sure if that was good or not. "Jacky-boy need a little help gettin' outta trouble again or somethin'?"

"Nah... Dis ain't got nothin' ta do wid Jack," I said. He looked at me, surprised, since boroughs almost never visited unless it was delivering a message or poker night. I could only grin back, trying to hide the nervousness that had suddenly blossomed into a heavy, suppressing cloud in my chest, drowning any flowery daydreams entirely.

Without asking any further questions, Spot led us into a tiny little abandoned building nearby. Great man, Spot. Probably saw that this was a personal thing with those eyes of his. I swear, the guy could read your soul in one glance. That's why he's leader of Brooklyn, you know.

I stood to the side and leaned against the wall, leaving Race in the center of the room. I'd done my part, thank goodness. People as young as me shouldn't have to go through this torture... 

When Race evidently didn't want to do anything except stare at the floor and play with his hat, I prepared myself for another harrowing conversation with Spot. However, just when Spot looked like he was about to fall asleep sitting on those crates, Race suddenly straightened up. I could tell he'd been steeling himself for this moment. For a moment, I saw the usual jaunty Racetrack. The frontal view didn't seem to be as convincing, however, from Spot's indescribable expression. If he looked like this _now, I didn't want to see him when Race spilled._

"See, it's like this..." he began, voice slightly shaky. He took a deep breath. "You an' me, Spot... We've known each uddah fa awhile, right?"

Spot smiled at this, perhaps recalling times from their youth. Those two have known each other forever. I'm not quite sure why Race left Brooklyn - as far as I know he hasn't told anybody - but even though he did, they're still the best of friends. In fact, it was through him that Jack made his connections with Spot, thus ensuring Manhattan's standing in the newsie world.

"Sure t'ing! Born and bred in Brooklyn, eh?" Spot said, giving Race a friendly punch on the arm. The poor boy could only laugh half-heartedly. 

"Yeah... Well... What I wanna say is... I kinda..."

Race's gaze returned to the ground as he shifted from one foot to the other. I could see why. Spot Conlon had just turned that infamous gaze on him, having realized that this was not a normal little chat between old friends. _Boy, do I feel bad for the kid... You ain't never been stared at by Spot Conlon before... It just ain't __right, you know? It's like he's reading your soul or something, but you don't know what parts of you he's found. _

And Race, poor kid, he's shaking like a leaf. I ain't _never seen him this shy before, especially not when it came to courting. He just kisses your hand and whisks you away to some romantic little place for dinner, where he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, but it don't matter 'cause _he's _the one whispering them, and that _makes_ it something. Not that _I_ would know __personally, of course, but I've heard all his girlfriends sigh and daydream about the next little meeting. But __they're all gorgeous little beauties with perfect, porcelain faces and shimmering, glossy tresses... I'm just a scruffy little newsgirl; I don't know anything about it and probably never will. _

Anyway, I suppose it's different with a guy, especially a hard nut like Spot, but I still feel _bad_ for him, you know? But just when I'm about to step in and perform the daring rescue, he suddenly blurts it all out like there's no tomorrow.

"I t'ink I'm in love witchou, Spot!"

Amazingly enough, it was actually understandable, despite how fast he'd spoken. I swear there was smoke floating off the end of his tongue. Looked like he was breathing fire or something...

Spot laughed a little, like I knew he would. "Dat's funny, Race. Dat's real funny... Now why'd you _really_ come heah?"

At this, Race looked at the floor again. I _ain't _never_ seen him act like this before. It's almost scary 'cause he's all quiet and shy... It just ain't _him_. Racetrack __always knows the right thing to say. He __has to have the last word, even if it gets him soaked. That's why I like hanging around him. He's always sure of himself, never lost, never undecided. You look at him, and you just __know that everything's going to be all right, 'cause even if the world turns on you, he'll still be there. _

So seeing him lost like this was a bit of a shock. Unnerving as _anything, I tell you._

"Do we _look_ like we'ah heah ta joke aroun' witcha, Spot?" I asked, sounding a bit more harsh than I'd intended to. The silence that ensued was deafening and tense. Spot's face just suddenly became _empty_, you know? Race must've saw it, too, 'cause he turned even paler than he already was, if that was possible. If he'd been standing in fresh fallen snow, you wouldn't be able to differentiate between his skin and the snow. Maybe you would, but the snow wouldn't have been the paler of the two.

"You're crazy..." Spot's whisper shattered the atmosphere. Again, it was deafening but in another fashion. 

"Spot, I just..." Race began, uneasily.

"No! You... You're... You're crazy! Or drunk! Or somethin'!" His voice rose to an alarming volume. Was it just me, or did he sound _panicked? Well, well, well... Spot Conlon sounding panicked... I never dreamed I'd see the day._

And I wished, with all my sentimental little heart, that I'd never have to see him like that again.

He stood violently, knocking half the crates over in the process. His face was pale, too, and by his heavy breathing, I could tell he was working himself up. 

"Spot..." Race started again softly, voice calm but laced with worry, concern, and just a touch of pleading. 

"Don't you 'Spot' me!" Spot yelled. "You're drunk or crazy or _somethin'_, but don't you _dare come back heah 'til you're sobah again!" He stormed savagely across the crate-littered floor and went to the window, looking out at the river._

Race backed away, and I would've, too, except that I was already standing against a wall. 

"Spot, I..." Boy, that kid's insistent.

"Just go." 

Spot had finally managed to calm himself again. His voice was quiet now but more than a little cold. Race looked at him one last time before slipping out the door quietly. I stayed right where I was.

Race is a sweet kid. I swear I feel like his mother sometimes... He's just _such a __kid. Sure, he acts all tough and everything, but who __doesn't on the streets? You've __got to, you know? When you live like we do, you learn real fast that you can't afford to be a kid no more. Except for Mush. That boy's just phenonmenal. Somehow, he still manages to believe in the best of everything and everyone, even after all the shit he's been through. _

But Racetrack's different, you know? He's always joking around, the funny guy, until you hear the bitterness in everything he says. He's been selling a lot longer than most of us, and that includes Jack. _He's the one real connection with Brooklyn; Spot would never trust Jack over Race, especially after all that shit he pulled during the strike. But who gets to be leader? Jack. Who's the one everyone listens to? Jack. Even though half the time, he's leading us on nothing more than a wild goose chase. People _like_ Jack, for reasons I can't comprehend. Sure, he a nice guy and everything, but something about him just ain't _real_. It's like he's __there, but he's never really a part of anything. He's so... separated, I guess, from the rest of us, but there's nothing to separate him, except a few rides in Teddy Roosevelt's carriage and a dream of the west. And that's all he is, really. A dreamer._

Racetrack, though, he's someone you can talk to and get good, practical advice from. He doesn't tell you to follow your dreams and do what you think is right or any of that useless _junk_. He helps you _deal_ with your situation, whether it's letting you rant on about the injustices of the world or getting you drunk and helping you plot against whoever ruined the past week of your life. Or sometimes he just gives you a good smack and rather sharply reminds you that "...Everythin' doesn't revolve aroun' _you, ya bonehead!" Whatever it is, he always leaves you a happier person afterwards while making sure that you don't do anything you'll probably regret when you're sober._

So _damn_ if I'm going to let him down at a time like this!

"So dis is how da great leadah o' Brooklyn deals wid his problems." My respect for Conlon had dropped considerably in the last five minutes or so. "Makes me feel a lot bettah 'bout myself." 

"I meant both o' you, ya know." Shit, he sounds like nothing happened, all calm and centered. What's he pulling, huh?

"Yeah, well, I'm sobah. An' so was he."

"I know."

What the _hell_ was he pulling, huh? He fucking well _knows_, and he fucking said all that _crap_ anyway? What is this?

"So what was all dat for, huh?"

I ain't never been the type to beat around the bush, me. Nope, if I want to know something, I ask you straight out. Some say it ain't a smart thing to do, but it's never failed me yet.

He stayed silent. I thought he hadn't heard me, but even if he had, he probably didn't know the answer. Yeah, everybody knows Spot Conlon, the tough leader of Brooklyn who doesn't take shit from anyone. The boy who, though a few inches shorter than most of his own crew, is tough enough to lead them all. But I know him better than that. He's a kid, too, at the heart of it. I remember when he was so excited about that picture in the papes. It hadn't even been a very good one; Jack, of course, was the only one who was actually ready for it. He'd bounced around like a rabbit trying to see it, poor guy.

Then a new thought occurred to me. "You were scared, weren't you?"

"'Course not! Spot Conlon ain't scared o' nothin'!" _Such a kidder._

"You were scared," I accused. I knew he could probably soak me halfway to hell, but I didn't really care at the moment. Shit, I was doing him a fucking favor! "You were scared, and ya broke yore bes' friend's heart for it, is that it?"

"But I _wasn't_..." 

"Yeah, you were. Don't give me that crap. You _know you were. Hell, _look_ at yourself, shakin' like a leaf... You're terrified!"_

"Get out," he whispered. I didn't even bother stopping. He was going to listen to me, damn it, and he was going to listen good.

"I've seen you, ya know. You t'ink nobody sees what you do, but I've seen da way ya look at 'im. An' now when _he_ finally gets up da nerve ta tell _you_, _you_ have da _gall ta be mad at _him_. What's da deal wid _dat_, huh?"_

It was a complete lie, of course. Spot never had eyes for anything but headlines and girls. It just felt _so good_ to accuse him of something. 

Why am _I_ mad at him anyway? He didn't do anything to _me_. But _something about this whole situation was wrong, and I was going to fling it at him. It'd just take me awhile to find it. And when I did, boy, you'd better watch _out_._

"You t'ink you're so great... Are you jus' too good fa da rest o' us, huh? Prolly da _foist_ time anybody's _really loved you in yore life, an' you jus' blow 'im off like a nasty bug or somethin'..."_

"What's _that_ supposed to mean, huh?" His temper flared up again, but I could've taken him on. 

"Wake up, Spotty-boy! How long has Race known ya? How long has alla yore goils known ya? Huh?! Ya really t'ink dat dey could possibly love ya anymore den he does?!"

"Yeah? Well... Well..." 

"He's known you a lot longah den dey have, Spotty, an' he knows you bettah den any o' dem _evah_ will. Remember dat he was yore friend foist. All dose goils, you sure dey ain't just in love wit yore face? If dey weren't, why ain't any o' 'em heah now? Huh? But Race, he _knows_ you. He knows what you've been through. Hell, he lived through it _wit_ you! How could you even _think_ dat he wasn't being serious? You know 'im bettah den I do, and _I know dat he would _nevah_ joke about somethin' like dis."_

I finally stopped my rant, breathing hard. Spot was silent. I'd struck him deep with that one.

"Go back ta Manhattan, Sneaks," he said finally, quiet. But he wasn't looking me in the eye anymore. Ha. "Go back ta where you belong."

And where I'm wanted. 

Yeah. He didn't need to finish _that_ sentence. 

DONE. Finally, finally DONE. And no more finals. And no more SCHOOL. [looks slightly dazed at her luck] 

It didn't really turned out the way I wanted it to, but... it works. And that's what counts.

Obviously, I wasn't really aiming for humor in this chapter, though I _did put it under humor... It was just too serious a topic... Well, I hope you like it anyways! And review!!_

**Gothic Author**

**Replies:**

**The Omniscient Bookseller:**

Sexy? Of course he's sexy... Racetrack is ALWAYS sexy, no doubt about it. [nods]

SPOT/RACE RULES!!!!!! Race cannot be with anybody else. He just can't. I didn't really think that until I watched that bit after Spot's "On the grounds of Brooklyn, your Honor" line in slow-mo. 0.0 That was some SERIOUS awakening, dude...

Anyhow, thanks for all the compliments!!! I felt all nice and fuzzy and had to do my best to stick with my original plot and not make Spot like Race, too...

**hilaRyB:**

"Emma"? Never hoid of it. Sorry.

Sneaks will fall in love with... [drumroll] ... You'll have to wait for it!!! I was gonna do it in the next chappie, but seeing as how you publicly called me a "heifer", I might just have to drag it on and make you suffer...

JUST KIDDING!!!! Yeah... The first chapter of the new fic's posted just for you, by the way... Can't have angry reviewers now, can I? [grin]

Anyway, if you didn't get it in THIS chapter [neon arrows towards "THIS"], then I'm not doing my job...

**Mercuria:**

Thanks for liking this little ficcie!!

About the wording... Quite a few hardcore "Newsies" fangirls who've no doubt done much research on turn-of-the-century lingo have read it, and they haven't said anything, so... [shrugs] 

Oh, well... 

Thanks for reviewing!!

**Fallen Seraphim:**

SCHOOL'S OUT!!! I CAN WRITE ALL DAY!!! EVERYDAY!!! [hoots and does victory dance]

**Thanks go to:** sugarNspice, Owl, Keza: Queen of Procrastination, and Dreamer for reviewing!! Y'all are great!!!!


	4. Chapter Three: The Best Kind of Present

**Disclaimer: If I owned "Newsies", there'd be a hell of a lot more girl parts... And they'd actually have personalities...**

**Matchmaker: Chapter Three**

**The Best Kind of Present**

I can't believe it.

I'm still alive. 

Not only that, Race is still talking to me. In fact, I'm pretty much the _only_ person he'll talk to. 

I expected him to damn me to hell as soon as I got back 'cause it _was_ me who dragged him to talk to Spot in the first place, you know? If I hadn't done anything, he'd still be daydreaming about Spot, which really wouldn't be any better, except that he would be completely oblivious to Spot's newfound hatred of his guts... Yeah, I feel bad enough, all right? You don't got to rub it in...

Anyhow, I thought he'd at least ignore me or _something, you know? But instead he turns around and _thanks_ me for making him face the truth. I felt even worse after that, seeing his forced smile and unshed tears. That's another thing that annoys me, you know? Guys have this thing where they never let themselves cry, even though they know it'll make them feel better afterwards. Okay, so maybe they __don't know 'cause they've never done it before, but they won't listen to your advice about it, either. Hey. I said I never cried in front of guys. I didn't say nothing about never crying._

But just seeing that _look_ on his face. I really want to give him a hug or something, you know, but it'd be too embarrassing for us both. Mostly for him, and Lord knows that he doesn't need any more junk in his life right now...

We haven't talked about it much, these past few weeks. No word from Spot, of course. Looks like _he's_ pretty shaken up about it, too; the guy's been avoiding Manhattan for four weeks now. Jack's starting to worry that he's suddenly in a bad standing with Brooklyn. You don't hear a lot from Spot, but Racetrack usually brings back a word or two for his closer friends. But Race hasn't been going to Coney Island lately; he'd have to go through Brooklyn to get there, and it'd get too awkward if anything happened. Speaking of which, the boys think he's gone and lost his marbles. Used to be you couldn't pull him away with six horses and a car, and now you can't get him to touch the ground with a ten-foot pole. 

Well, today's his birthday, and I don't care _what he says... I can tell that he's been aching for the tracks. Enough is enough. Brooklyn's a big place. What're the odds of him running into Spot? Besides, if I'm right in thinking that Spot's doing his best to avoid run ins, too, then he'll be steering clear of the area. _

I found myself dragging a protesting Racetrack across the Brooklyn Bridge. Again. But at least this time, he really, _really wanted to go. _

We spent the morning selling leisurely. The crowd there's big, and they're mostly people who're willing to spend a little money. That's his regular crowd anyway, so they all know him. In any case, we finished pretty quickly and ended up betting. Or he did, anyway. I'd promised that lunch would be on me, and I didn't want to take chances with that. I mean, it's his _birthday. I brought him here to have a good time and forget about everything else for awhile. It was nice to see him yell and cheer and jump up and down in anticipation. Sure was better than watching him mope around with that horribly sad little smile on his face. _

All right, all right... I admit it. I did it to make me feel better, too. Just because Race didn't think it was my fault doesn't mean that it _wasn't_. I know it was, and I had to make it up to him, you know? And what better than letting him indulge in his favorite pastime without worrying about saving up for lunch?

After ten wins and two losses, we finally headed off to lunch. I'd scouted out this great little Italian cafe, and I knew he'd love the food. Funny, really, how well we know each other. Sure, I may not have known him quite as long as _some_ people have, but we're close enough that we say things at the same time and finish each other's sentences sometimes. There are times, like this morning, when we've looked through the papes, or, as _Jack_ would say, _perused_ through the papes, and shouted out the same headline, word for word. And there are other times when we can just sit and _understand_, and we don't have to say nothing 'cause it's just _understood. If I ever end up getting married, I'm going to marry someone like that, someone who knows what I'd like without having to ask. _

Anyway, so we're eating together, and everyone's probably staring at us - how can two newsies afford to eat at a place like this? I really don't care 'cause I _know_ I've got the money. Ten dollars in my pocket! Come on! I'm proud of myself, you know. I actually managed to save it all up without spending any of it before I was supposed to. He laughed when I told him.

"T'anks for doing all dis... I'm real glad I got a friend like you around."

I rolled my eyes. _Some_ people. _Honestly_. "Awww... C'mon, Race... You woulda done it fa me, too, if I knew when my boithday was."

"But it ain't just about me boithday, Sneaks. You know it ain't." His voice was dry and cynical, the typical Racetrack.

I wasn't sure what to say. If he wanted to talk about it...

"I know you still feel bad about dat whole deal wid Spot..." He paused to glance at me here, sure that I would deny it. But I didn't. Like I said, I'm not one to beat around the bush. I knew I did, and I wasn't afraid of admitting it. "But _it's not yore fault_. Think about it. If Spot had found out latah, in a, shall we say, less direct fashion, he'd hate me anyway. Hell, he'd probably have me killed. Dis way, at least, everythin's in de open, an' he can't accuse me o' nothin'."

"You sure 'bout dat?" I asked jokingly. He ain't as pessimisstic as I thought he was... Maybe I don't know him so well after all.

He rolled his eyes at me. "You know what I mean."

I grinned. "Yeah, well, I'm glad we came, too. Uddahwise, you'd still be mopin' aroun' da lodgin' house. Ya know, I only brought youse 'cause da guys were complainin' dat youse were gonna make it pour if ya didn' cheer up soon."

As he opened his mouth to retort, the bell over the door rang.

All of a sudden, this silence falls across the room, so we look to see what's going on, you know? And lo and behold, who is it but Spot Conlon, standing right smack dab in the middle of the doorway. Yeah, the guy commands that much respect. Actually, I think it was just the absurdity of three newsies in a nice restaurant at once that made them quiet. And Spot _was carrying his cane. They probably thought he was there to rob them or something. Rich folks. You never know._

I almost blew my top right there and then. What _are the chances of us meeting up with Spot? And he came looking for us! Which means that some unbelievably stupid __idiot had told Spot that we were here. I settled on Snoddy, who had told me about the restaurant in the first place. Given that they didn't know about the whole situation with Race and Spot, but still! As I watched, Race paled until he was that paler-than-snow pale again, and I knew that a perfectly good day had just gone down the drain. I was about to give Spot a piece of my mind when I look at __him and see that he's all... _

...Lost? Spot's another one of those people you can always count on to know his way. He's the leader of Brooklyn, for goodness sake! 

Maybe I really _had_ left him thinking hard...

"Er... Race? Can I talk witcha for a minute?" I'm hearing things... I'm hearing things, I tell you! Whatever he does, Spot Conlon _never_ sounds timid! _Ever! And he never goes to see anybody. __They always go to see __him. _

Race stood up, looking unsure of himself. The _effect those two have on each other. Unbelievable. For a moment there I thought he was going to sit back down, but I knew that whether it was good or bad, he'd have to get this over with sooner or later. So, being my good, friendly self, I gave him a little push forward. I say little, but it almost sent him toppling over. How was I supposed to know that his feet were glued to the spot, huh?_

Anyhow, he slowly followed Spot out the door. I'm staying out of it this time. I heard the people around me talking like they were from another world. What's going to happen to Race? Is Spot going to beat him into a bloody pulp? In that case, I would soon be very, _very sorry that I didn't follow them. But Spot hadn't seemed like he was in a beating mood. Maybe he's decided that he __does like Race after all?_

I didn't even notice that I'd been shoveling pasta in my mouth until I felt the cold metallic fork prongs against my tongue. Without any more food to distract me, I could only sit and fidget, willing for the time to pass. Why did I not have a pocket watch?

The bell rang, and I jumped, whirling around to see that it was just another customer. I bit my lip. Should I go look for them now? How much time had passed? Is Race okay? But if they're doing anything, do I really want to interfere?

Just as I'd called the waiter over to pay the bill - four dollars and twenty-seven cents - the bell I was waiting for rang again. They walked in, looking smug as anything. Both of their lips looked unnaturally red, and since I'm pretty sure they hadn't been putting lip rouge on each other, it could only have been caused by something shamefully natural. Flushed cheeks and mile wide grins. Mismatched buttoning. I'm no genius, but it doesn't take one to figure out what _they'd_ been up to. 

Inconsiderate twits. Leave _me here to worry my brains out while they're having the time of their lives._

_Men_.

I've been stuck lately; where are all those boring yet strangely inspiring geometry classes when you need 'em? Then it hits me: holy schmoly... [Cinderella!mice voice] JUNE 6 IS MAX CASELLY'S BOITHDAY!!!! And I HAD to write something for my favorite actor's birthday, so lo and behold, here comes chapter three. It was written on semi-short notice (all right, all right... I forgot, okay? Shush!), so if it sounds a little hurried, pardon...

Anyhow, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAX CASELLA!!!! WOOT!!!

**Gothic Author**

**Replies:**

**Becky:**

[sighs in relief] I'm glad you didn't skip over it, too, hon... It's been incredibly slow lately... This story was on the first page for, like, THREE days!! That NEVER happens! Anyhow, I'm glad you like Sneaks and Race. I like them, too. 

As for Blink/Mush... You'll just have to wait and see, won't you? [cackles evilly]

**hilaRyB:**

Awww... [hugs hilaRy] I'm sorry... Did I sound offended? None was taken, I assure you! However, it DID stand as a point of amusement with my friends: I have been called many things in this lifetime, but NEVER ONCE have I been called a heifer...

I'll be sure to add "Emma" and "Velvet Goldmine" to my "Movies To Watch This Summer" list... Ewan McGregor? [sings] "The hiiiills are aliiiiiiive... With the sooouuuund of muuuuuusiiiiiic..." Love that movie!! He's got a great voice... Hmmm... Maybe I'll get him to play Denton when I become a director and decide to remake "Newsies"... XD That'd be MUCHO PHUNNY with a pH of 10!!

HEH. Yeah, I'm a geek like that...

**The Omniscient Bookseller:**

It's Race/Spotness, baby!! Gotta love it... 

...I hope the NowResolvedAndNoLongerAngsty!Race/Spotness is as loverly as UnresolvedAngsty!Race/Spotness...

[ponders very, very hard] Actually, Racetrack can be with many, MANY people [coughFANGIRLScough], but on the slash scene, there's no one for him but Spotty-boy (Skittery and Kid Blink once in awhile, but I have been conditioned by Lute into believing that there is no one for Skittery but Snitch, and it's TOO obvious that Blink and Mush are soulmates). [sticks SerenadingRomeo!Spot before ShyLovestruckJuliet!Racetrack and melts into a shimmering puddle at the cuteness][scratches her now nonexistent head][sticks SerenadingRomeo!Racetrack beside ShyLovestruckJuliet!Spot and nods approvingly]

...I really SHOULD write that out into a story, shouldn't I?

**Thanks go to: geometrygal for reviewing!! Thanks a bunch!!!**


	5. Chapter Four: Headbanging Against Hard S...

**Disclaimer: If I owned "Newsies", I would've kept the Jack/Sarah duet (from the original script). Come on! Disney love songs RULE!!!**

**Matchmaker: Chapter Four**

**Headbanging Against Hard Surfaces**

That night was _great_. Beyond memorable. While we were out for the day, the guys had been planning a surprise party for Race. Dinner at Tibby's and all out madness at the lodging house after. Yeah, _sounds_ boring, but when you got the best poker-playing newsies from New York involved, it's something else _entirely_. 

It was a lot better, too, now that Race was out of his gloom. Everyone could tell that there was an extra bounce in his step and, of course, being the humble people that they are, patted themselves on the back for it. 

_Boy_, were they _off. _

The credit is all mine, my friends. _Mine. _

And Spot's.

But mostly mine.

_And_ I had the added bonus of knowing something they didn't.

Life was good.

Anyway, nobody asked when Spot came over 'cause they all assumed that he was there to celebrate Race's birthday. And once again, they were _wrong_. Well, not entirely, but I don't think they were thinking of quite the same kind of "celebrating" that would no doubt occur... Later... In the night... 

I'm going to stop thinking about that now...

_Anyway_, it definitely made me feel better, too, now that Race was back on track - I _crack myself __up! - and seeing him attack all conversations and stupid comments with cynical vigor again was _priceless_. I asked him, you know, what they'd been doing earlier today, and he turned that adorable shade of red that makes him look more like a tomato than anything else and managed to stutter out a shaky "W-W-Well". I decided to back off and not be a bitch. The day was just too good for that._

The absolute pinnacle of the night came when somebody - who I will love 'til the world ends - started a game of strip poker, and _of course, everyone who knew what an ace was _had_ to join. I declined, though. It had been a _long_ while since I'd been able to just sit back and watch my favorite boys, and I decided to enjoy it with as little harm to my ego as possible. _

Life could _not _be any better.

No mad Brooklyn leaders to worry about, no broken hearts, no fear that someone would come and kill me in my sleep, no couples... 

Just me, a drink, and...

"Hey, uh... Sneaks? Could I talk to you for a minute?"

Which _incredibly_ dumb person _dared_ to ruin my moment?

But there he was, Mush, looking all bashful and embarrassed and everything. And I couldn't be mad. I really couldn't. I mean, this is _Mush we're talking about here. The kid who can't lie to save his life. That's why he doesn't bother with poker anymore... Horrible poker face. Shame, really... Beautiful physique, that kid. Like a Greek god or something._

The lack of his usual grin didn't worry me much. I love him and everything, but he does tend to get over melodramatic about little things. But I love him. Quite a lot, actually. So I obliged him, as any normal person would and scooted my chair over for him. 

"Sure t'ing, Mushy-boy," I said. "'Samatta?"

"Well, see... um..." A very flattering pink tinge spread over his face like wild fire. "There's this... person... I really, really like 'em..."

I almost screamed. Not again! I _will not do this again! Not for a million bucks! Not for the last guy on the great Mother Earth!_

Then again...

I _had _managed to convince _Spot Conlon_, leader of Brooklyn, to give Racetrack Higgins, a fellow _guy, a chance..._

I can do _anything_. 

So, stupidly, I nodded and asked, "Yeah? So who is it?"

He leaned in and said something real quietly, but I lost it. It wasn't my fault! Honestly! This real well built guy had just lost his shirt! I yelled along with the rest of the girls, who were no doubt having at least as much fun as I was. 

"ABOUT TIME, DECK!!!! Uh... Can you say that again? I didn't quite catch that..."

He turned even redder for a moment before leaning even closer. I could feel his breath on my ear.

Life _could not_ get any better.

"Kid, all right? Kid!"

But life sure as hell _could_ get a lot worse.

I turned to him slowly and narrowed my eyes. "Are you _serious?"_

He backed away a little, looking real nervous and almost scared. Mush scared of little old me... Ha, that's funny... I must be drunk... What've I been drinking? I swear it was just beer but apparently not...

Honestly, though, have you _seen the guy? He ain't so tall, but __man, has he got muscles... Bet he could give some of Brooklyn's best a run for their money. Almost twice my size, he is... Too softhearted to ever really hurt anyone, though, even if they'd hurt him. Naive as anything. Lives to believe in the best of people. You won't believe how many girls have used him before... He's a good-looking guy, you know? And intimidating, if you just look at him. But on the inside, heart of __gold. Never met a sweeter person in my life._

But anyway, so he looks at me, all scared-like for a moment, and then he laughs this real fake laugh and says, "Nah... I-I was jus'... Jus'... Jokin'! You know... Tryin' ta see how drunk you were..."

Bull! What is he on about? Sure, he laughs at some stupid stuff... All right, he laughs at some _really_ stupid stuff, but _that_ was just an all time low, even for him. 

"You're not... Not mad at me... Are you?" he asked, suddenly serious and looking worried. Ah, good old Mush... Worries about everything, that kid... And suddenly it struck me just _why he was so worried._

"Oh, _that_. No. No, no, no, no... I ain't mad at you 'cause you like another _guy... What kinda closed-minded, hoity-toity _scab_ do ya take me for, huh?"_

"I-I don't... I don't take you for a scab at all," he replied, surprised and shocked and probably a lot more worried than he had been before.

I waved my drink around vaguely, splashing it a bit. "I know you don't, Mushy... It's jus'... I been through a hard time lately, you know? I don't think I can handle another one o' these kinda problems right about now."

"Oh, yeah... I talked ta Race... Figured, you know, since I've known him for a long time and everythin', and he tol' me all about it. Said you were the person to talk to."

Okay. So I lied. Apparently I didn't know something they didn't know. I mean, if Race is that open about it to Mush... I mean, Mush is a great guy and all, but he ain't the best person to tell secrets to, you know what I'm saying? You know what I'm saying.

"When'd you go talk ta him?" I asked sharply. Suddenly my head felt a lot clearer.

"A few weeks back. Right after you guys came back from Brooklyn, in fact. Said you really stuck by him through it all... Said you faced down Spot Conlon for him." He started looking real excited, and his whole face just brightened up like the sun. I swear, he could _be the sun, with that smile of his... It's just that you can never feel bad when you're around him. Unless you're Racetrack, but he's seldom in a bad mood._

"How'd he know about that?" I asked. I mean, Race hadn't been there... Or had he?

Mush's eyes almost popped out of his skull. "You mean you _really_ did that? I thought he was jus' makin' stuff up... Well, when you came stormin' in about an hour after him, he guessed... You were awful scary that day, Sneaks," he added earnestly. 

I almost laughed. Almost. 

Then the realization hit me.

"Look, Mush... Does anybody else know about this?" This was serious. If he had been talking about it at all, some people could get seriously hurt. Mostly Race. 

"No! No, of course not!" He looked shocked and slightly miffed at the suggestion that he stupid enough to do such a thing. "Or if they do, they didn't hear it from me."

That was kind of reassuring. I mean, there's always the chance that someone could've overheard them, but nobody's said anything yet... I'm also guessing that Race wasn't dumb enough to spill out in the open. Yeah... Yeah, that'll work.

But what if...

"Hey, Sneaks?" Mush was staring at me but not really, you know? More like at my ear or something. "Look, I was jus' wonderin'... Will you help me with this? 'Cause I mean, Kid, you know... He gets pretty worked up over little things, and I just..." He paused for a minute, fidgeting. "Do you think I should do this? 'Cause we're best friends and all, but... It's just... You know?"

He looked at me helplessly. 

And my heart went out to him. 

Of course.

"Yeah, Mush... Yeah. I'll help you."

God, I'm a sucker for pitiful faces.

This took me awhile, as you can tell... Damn transitional chapters, you know... And a lot of people were clamoring for Blink/Mush, so I hope this appeases you.

Anyway, it has come to my attention that "Matchmaker" is an epic piece of fluff, so I probably won't update as much, or it'll get a little darker, which is more likely. Then again, I like my fluff... They're so fun to write. 

Ah, well... I'll decide when the time comes. 

**Gothic Author**

**P.S. I'll be in the Bahamas for a while, so you won't see me... Hope the Newsies!Slash Withdrawal doesn't hit too hard, huh?******

**Replies:**

**Sinhe: **

YOU HAVE BEEN CONVERTED!!!!!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!! [throws confetti and blows on noisemaker]

**hilaRy the Heifer: **

Hmmm... I don't know... I mean, Elijah Wood has gorgeous eyes, but I don't think they're daunting enough for Spot... [shrugs] Oh, well...

Yes, EwanMcGregor!Denton would equal more fangirls, wouldn't it? Especially since he can actually sing...

Luffles you, too, darling... And as long as the screwing appears soon between the "Vaudeville!" couples, it's all good. [wink]

**geometrygal:**

Awwww... Thanks... 

Race/Snipes isn't too bad, but it's not Race/Spot, you know? It's just not quite the same... [smirk]

Please don't damn me!! See? Blink/Mush. Right here. 

**kellyanne:**

Oh, don't worry... We all have strange senses of humor... After all, that IS part of why we're here, isn't it?

**Fallen Seraphim:**

[smirk] For the sake of our friendship, I won't answer that... 

By the way, I used your line, if you hadn't noticed... It was simply too good to waste.

**Thanks go to: Thistle, sugarNspice, Artemis-chan, and Omni for reviewing and making me feel all floaty with fuzziness. Couldn't do it without you!!! [blows kisses]**


	6. Chapter Five: Curse Your Pitiful Face

**Disclaimer: If I owned "Newsies", or Disney, rather, I would have an entire theme park dedicated to them. "The Lodging House" would be the resort, "The Distribution Office" would be the shop, and they would have all things newsie-related, including wardrobe, accessories, office supplies, etc. **

Okay, fine... Maybe not... But I would SO have a slot for them in the parades. I mean, they had a, what was it? A "Share Your Dreams Come True" parade at the Magic Kingdom, and they didn't have the brains to put "Newsies" somewhere in there... And it wasn't like it was only animated movies! "Mary Poppins" was there!

Ahem...

Yeah, but you're here to read, so...

I'll shut up now...

**Matchmaker: Chapter Five**

**Curse Your Pitiful Face**

I have a thing for torturing myself, apparently... What do they call it? Masochism? Is that right?

Yeah, see, 'cause after Spot, Blink may just be the hardest person to talk to. No, no... That's wrong. He _is_ the hardest one to talk to. 'Cause talking to Spot's scary but not really _hard, per se. Spot, at least, knows good sense when he hears it, even if he doesn't like it. He's just really intimidating, and when he stares at you with those eyes of his, your mind automatically goes blank. It's like, unless you got something important to say, you'd better keep your mouth shut._

But Blink. He's... impulsive. Now, don't get me wrong. He's a smart kid; I'm not saying he's stupid or anything, 'cause he's not. He just... gets angry real easily, you know? You got to be careful when you're talking to him, make sure you don't say anything wrong. I mean, he's _nice_ and everything, but I guess he gets a little... sensitive, you know? And it's not his fault, really. Got picked on a lot before - and even after, actually - he came, for his eye. He ain't never told anyone what happened to it. Except maybe Mush, who can never say anything to hurt anybody. That's probably why they're so close.

So I've been avoiding Blink lately, trying to come up with a good angle. I mean, I knew Spot wouldn't like it, but I _know_ that Blink won't like it. And they live in the same lodging house. Every night. It's not like I can just drag Mush out of range until it's safe, you know? And Mush... He's not like Racetrack. I mean, he's a tough kid - who isn't? - but he's... real easy to hurt, I guess. I remember that time everybody was furious at Jack for going scab, but Mush... It just broke his heart and his belief in everyone, you know? Of course, he never blamed Jack for anything or even yelled at him, but you could tell that it'd cut him real deep. And I think he's the only one who's really forgiven Jacky since. And by "forgive", I mean wiping the slate clean. What can I say? Mush just has that big of a heart. Mush'll make some girl mighty lucky someday.

Or maybe not.

Which brings me back to my point: How the hell am I supposed to "scout out" Blink, so to speak, without telling him directly?

That's what Mush said. He didn't want me to tell Blink, exactly... He just wanted to "get Blink's general reaction". 

Like there's any difference.

I mean, what does he want me to say? "Hey, Blink. What would you do if Mush fell in love with you"?

So I'm just walking along, right, thinking about it when I hear this real familiar voice. Hawking. On my turf. 

Granted, I sell in Central Park, which is easily large enough to accommodate several newsies, but we all got our own sections, you know what I'm saying? You know what I'm saying. And it's an unspoken rule never to sell while on someone else's territory. 

Well, I don't care if it's Blink or not, but just because I'm a girl does _not mean that I'm a pushover, no matter __what he thinks! All he ever thinks about are ways to get a girl into bed without getting caught. It's ridiculous..._

This is weird, come to think of it. I can't believe I didn't realize it before. I mean, Blink and Mush are the biggest ladies' men around. They even beat Spot, who could get any girl he wants but just doesn't care for them. 'Cause he's got someone else now. 

I love the thought of those two together... It's so... reassuring, in some weird way.

But Blink and Mush, all they ever seem to talk about is girls. I must've been _really drunk not to have been surprised... But somehow, I guess I should've seen it coming. _

And seeing Blink now, remembering all those weeks leading up to Mush's confession, I think maybe I _did_ see it coming, what with the whole Spot/Race thing and all. And maybe _that's_ why I wasn't too surprised. 

Although I was very drunk. Still got the headache to prove it.

"Sneaks! Just the goil I was lookin' for!" 

"_What are you doin' sellin' on __my beat, Blink?"_

Hey. Just 'cause I was supposed to talk to him doesn't mean being a pushover, alright? Rules are rules. 

"Oh..." He looked real sheepish and kind of guilty. "Yeah... Sorry 'bout that... I was gonna ask if I could sell with you today, but you left so fast this mornin', I though you was mad or somethin'... Decided it would be a good idea to let you cool down a bit foist, you know..." He flashed me the infamous grin that turned most girls to mush.

But I ain't most girls. I'm _this_ girl. And there's quite a difference, thanks.

Even though I most certainly did not turn to mush - Mush, HA! - I did regret my words a little. I vaguely remember him calling after me and picking up the pace immediately afterwards... 

Fine. I freaked, all right? How would you feel if the guy you're trying to avoid, and for good reason, I might add, suddenly feels the urge to talk to you, huh? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Anyway, so I just grinned back at him and said, "Oh, that... I just... had an appointment this mornin', so to speak, you know what I'm sayin'?"

He looked at me suspiciously for a moment. Dirty-minded sexpot. 

I rolled my eyes. I swear, if I rolled my eyes any more, they'd roll right out of my head. Thus is the price of living with too many males - notice the conspicuous lack of the word "men" here. "Not _that_ kind of appointment, idiot! When have you ever known me to go into _that kinda business, huh? I was meetin' with a bettin' buddy."_

Hey. I'm a newsie. I'm allowed to stretch the truth. Even if it's nonexistent.

But apparently it worked, 'cause Blink flushed scarlet and muttered several half-slurred apologies. 

"So why'd you wanna sell with me anyway? Have a fight with Mush or somethin'?" I said it as a joke but knew that it could be the truth all too soon. 

"Naw, it ain't that... Me and Mush _never_ fight. You know that."

Huh. Not _yet, they didn't. _

Yeah, I'm known city wide for my optimism.

He continued, oblivious to my so-very-optimistic thought. "But I guess... It's kinda about him, in a way..." 

Well, if Mush just couldn't wait for it, he could've just _told_ me, damn it, instead of letting me fret all over. And now he's gone and spilled it himself without even a thought...

"I'm worried 'bout him. He's been actin' kinda strange lately, you know? At first, I thought it was just another goil problem, but... I think it's more than that."

Or maybe not.

"I dunno. It's weird, but... I think he's pinin' after someone 'cause I recognize the signs. But he's had a different goil almost everyday for the past few weeks! He always gets 'em! So there really isn't any reason for him to be pinin', is there?"

I was impressed. Of all things, I had never expected Blink to be so observant. 

And he was providing me with a perfect oppurtunity to delve into the subject.

"Well, maybe he ain't gettin' the person he wants." 

Sly use of wording. It's an art. Very useful in my line of work.

"Well, yeah, but..." Poor Blink looked so frustrated and confused that I almost told him. But I held back. I mean, we were in a public place. It wasn't too smart to say anything like that here. "He's runnin' through the goils so fast that there's no one left! I can't think of anyone who he might like but hasn't dated yet. And I can't think of anyone crazy enough to turn down Mush! They all love him!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, would _you_ date him?"

Blink just stared at me blankly for a moment. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Did I say he was smart? Sorry. I meant to add "most of the time".

I rolled my eyes again and felt them loosen up in my sockets. "You just said that nobody was crazy enough _not_ to date Mush. Would _you_ do it?"

He didn't talk for a few minutes. It was a miracle. No, I'm serious. Kid Blink _never stops talking. Except for early mornings and a few select occasions. But generally, you can't get him to shut up. He's always got to say something. Impulsive, like I said. I'm surprised he even stopped to think about it. Then again, it was a pretty loaded question._

I savored the silence. It was strange, like, because Blink stopped talking, everything else stopped, too. There wasn't a noise to be heard. In _Central Park. _

That's saying something.

But then he spoke again, and everything immediately resumed its usual noisemaking. _Weird._

"I suppose... If anything like that ever happened, I _might_... I mean, I know the guy well enough, and he's great and everything..." He shrugged. "But there really is no point thinking about it, is there? I mean, it's not like _that's _gonna happen anytime soon."

Think again, lover boy. It just may come sooner than you think.

My contribution to Blink Week. I can't believe I actually managed to squeeze this out... And yes, "weird" is my new word, apparently...

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, B!!!!!!!

**Gothic Author**

**Replies:**

**Omni:**

Dude. You just read. I had to WRITE this thing. Be glad that I have a two-year-old sister, or my computer may have been destroyed before I could finish it...

**studentnumber24601:**

I saw your review, and I fell over and DIED. It's like when Omni first reviewed for hilaRy...

But anyway... [sings] HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR B-EE. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU-OOOOO!!!!!!!!

[winces] Slightly off-key, but it's the thought that counts, right? [sheepish grin]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE COMPLIMENTS!!! [bows down and, well... BOWS] I worship your greatness...

By the way... "Violent Dreams"? [mug-splitting grin]****

**geometrygal:**

Awww... But it would've been a different kind of Disney love song!! Angtsy Disney love songs by Alan Menken!! How could it get any better?

By the way, I see you've read "Sometimes I Don't Believe In Myself" and "I Wanna Make You Feel Beautiful"... [smirk] I love Tai, Soli, and Sele... Such a very entertaining trio.

**The Heifah:**

[sputters] But... But... Mush/Blink! And Race/Spot! AND Snitch/Skittery!!! How can you even AVOID it? Especially between Spot and Everybody and Their Mother? 

HEH. 

That statement was a stroke of genius, my friend...

Oh yeah... Before I forget... 

Whatever happened to Asshole!Race?

**Stage:**

Yup. Blink/Mushness is nice. Good for the stomach, good for the heart, and good for all other kinds of doom and gloom! ****

**Funkiechick:**

[sings] You've got a friend in me...

Of COURSE I'll write more Race/Spots!!! Can't stay away from it. I'm hooked. In fact, I'm writing one right now featuring Cinderella!Race.

[sings] So this is love... Mm mm mmmm... So _this is love...****_

**Artemis-chan:**

HEH.

"Now that Race's back to his normal self..."

If that's what YOU think... But you didn't hear it from me. [wink]

**shingiami nanoda:**

Yeah, that's a great line, ain't it? I fear I have overused it, though... -_-;;;

Thanks for the review, hon... Appreciate it!!

**Thanks go to: [blinks] Wait... I've replied to everyone!! [jigs in victory] **

Aw, hell... Thanks go to everyone who reviewed!!! Mucho love!!!!!****


	7. Chapter Six: Beware He Who Never Frowns

**Disclaimer: If I owned "Newsies", it'd be a T.V. show so we could all swoon over Mush's fab abs, Spot's intimidating prettiness, and Race's extraordinary poker face every week.**

**Matchmaker: Chapter Six**

**Beware He Who Never Frowns**

I'm a really stupid person, you know that? 'Cause after that conversation with Blink, I took him at his word and made the ingenious logical leap that if Mush really _did _ask him... 

Let's just say that it wasn't pretty.

From what Mush told me, I gathered that it'd been a bit of an unpleasant shock for Blink, to say the least. Basically, he, in no uncertain terms, told Mush to "get the hell away from him". 

"Told", however, may just be the biggest understatement I will ever make in my short, soon to be shorter, life. 

Remember when I said that Mush never said anything to hurt anybody? Which means, in laymen's terms - would that be laymen's laymen's terms? - that he's never mad at anyone? Well, apparently, I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. As soon as I walked in that door and saw him standing there looking to murder someone, I knew something had gone wrong. Real wrong. 

So I come in and grin at him, hoping to _God he's bluffing or something, 'cause I mean, this is __Mush we're talking about here. How often does _Mush_ look like he wants to kill someone? Which is probably why I started shaking. 'Cause, I mean... __Mush. _

But because Lady Luck favors Race more than she favors me - probably has a crush on him, too - which I think is awfully unfair of her; who am I to complain about the way she runs things, though? I mean, if I did, she may very well decide to take away what little I have because she thinks I'm ungrateful or something. Anyway, as I was saying, because she likes Race more than she likes me, she decided that I should be the first person in history to find out exactly what being in Mush's bad graces feels like.

You know, I should get a monument for my troubles. A statue like that one of Horace Greeley's would be nice...

But I get ahead of myself. 

"What the hell were ya thinkin'?!" he yelled, in a truly deafening fashion. It was early afternoon, and most of the boys weren't back yet, and I was glad for that. I mean, if it were Spot rampaging around, no one would pay him any mind. Okay... So that's not entirely true... But it'd still be less of a spectacle than Mush trying to wring my neck, you know what I'm saying? You know what I'm saying. 

"Huh?" Yeah, I know, real intelligent, but I honestly had no idea why he was mad at me. I didn't even know why he was mad at all! Well... I did, actually, I'm not that much of an idiot, but it's not like I knew all the gory details.

"You told me..." he started, brown eyes narrowed and voice painfully controlled. "You told me that Blink had said he'd think abou' it if I ever asked him..."

"Yeah, I did," I replied, wholly confused by his attitude. "That's what he told me."

"Then will you _please _explain to me why I am now banished from his life forever?!!"

Oh. 

I blinked. And blinked again. 

"You are?"

"Yes! And it's all thanks to you! You know, I appreciate your friendly intentions an' all, but did it ever occur to you that somethin' like this would _not_ be a good thing to lie about?"

"What?!"

"I mean, you knew why I asked you to do that... I told you everythin'!! I even asked you not to lie, and you _promised!!"_

Remember when I said that Mush lives to see the bright side of things? Apparently, that doesn't apply to his romantic life. 

"But I _didn't_!! You gotta believe me! He really _did _say that!!" 

My pleas, because I'm the luckiest person in the world, fell on deaf ears. 

"Then why would he say what he did to me, huh?! I know Blink, Sneaks, and he never goes back on his word!! Ever! I thought you'd do the same, but obviously not."

With that overly dramatic indignity, he shoved past me and stormed away. Or he tried to, in any case. Because just as he was making his exit, who should come by but Blink. 

"Get outta my way, _Alexander_."

It was funny the way Blink used Mush's real name, like "Mush" was too intimate, but "pansy" and "queer" were too harsh. 

Amazing the thoughts that pop into your head when you've just been severely shaken.

"My pleasure, _Geoffrey_," Mush spat back vehemently, sarcasm cascading from his words to land in large, frightening pools at his feet. 

Blink. Mush. Fighting. After Mush had just yelled at me. 

You'd think the day was as bad as it could get, right? 

But no, 'cause as soon as Mush stalked away down the street to who-knows-where, Blink starts into me, too.

"This was some sick joke, wasn't it?! You and Mush planned it on purpose just to throw me off, didn't you?! Well, I wouldn't and don't particularly want to know about your sick, twisted pleasure, but it wasn't funny to me!!"

"Where the hell did you get _that idea from?!" The sound burst from my throat. Part of my mind found his choice of words distinctively odd and decided to save it for later analysis. At the moment, I was frustrated as anything. I mean, when did this all turn into _my_ problem? I was just the go between! How the fucking hell was any of this __my fault? _

"Well, it's pretty obvious, ain't it?! That day at the park when you asked me about Mush, you were really settin' me up, weren't ya?! I know I may not be the smartest person in the world, but I ain't _that stupid!!"_

"Well, apparently, you are, 'cause you seem to be unable to get it through your thick skull that _I didn't do anythin'_!!"

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. All right, fine... It was most definitely the wrong thing to say. But after having been through this once with Spot and another with Mush not five minutes ago, I wasn't particularly keen on having to prove _my_ innocence, of all things, one more time, if you get my meaning. 

Look at it this way: at least I hadn't mentioned his amazing ignorance of the fact that Mush very obviously wasn't too happy with me, either.

Anyhow, like I said, it was the wrong thing to say. How do I know? Well, Mr. Ladies' Man himself pulled back and hit me full in the face. The punch was strong and unexpected enough that I actually fell, which is saying something, 'cause I'm not exactly the easiest person to knock over, you know what I'm saying? 

Blink looked like he wanted to say something for a minute, but he apparently couldn't think of anything dramatic enough for his tastes 'cause he settled for glowering at me before turning on his heel and stomping out. 

It was a highly traumatic experience, to say the least. I was in shock for the next two hours and didn't bother to move from my place on the floor of the lodging house. It was only when Race came in that he shook me from my stupor. 

"Hey. You all right?" he asked, clearly concerned. I stared at him. All right? Was I all right? At his highly ridiculous question, I burst into tears. 

Hey. If you'd just been yelled at by Mush, had witnessed a fight between the dynamic duo, and been yelled at _and half-knocked out by Blink, what would _you_ do?_

I tried to stop. I really did. But it was really hard. And it actually felt kind of nice. 

Fine. It was absolutely heavenly to cry it all out. How guys live without ever crying is beyond me. It's just such a release. Or it would be, if you weren't half-afraid that someone would see you and laugh at your pain. 

But because Racetrack is the darling that he is, he asked no questions and simply told me that everything was okay. He even let me cry on him, which was awfully sweet. Then again, we're talking about Racetrack, who really is always sweet, isn't he?

In the space of one day, I had somehow managed to convince Mush that I'd lied to him, Blink that I was involved with some twisted, sadistic joke at his expense, thereby losing myself two valuable friends after tearing them apart, do the undoable and incur Mush's wrath, _and break my lifelong oath to never cry in front of a guy._

But that guy was Racetrack, so everything was just peachy keen.

It had to be.

I'm really sorry this took so long, but as I've said, I've been awfully (my new word) busy as of late. In any case, I also apologize if Sneaks doesn't sound like herself because I'm trying to return to a formal mindset. 

On a happier note, I changed the title. "Yrutnec" is my version of "turn-of-the-century" 'cause FFN wouldn't let me type it all out. It bugs me a little, but after intense consideration, I've decided that it adds to the humor.

Oh, yes, and this is a birthday chapter to my dear friend Goddess of Oblivion. Happy birthday, darling!! Told you I'd come through... ^_~

**Gothic Author**

**Replies:**

**Omni:**

Actually, to tell you the truth... I don't know. I'll have to see where this takes me. 

I'm glad to see you're enjoying this. It's always a pleasure to please.

**studentnumber24601:**

Of course I did! Anything for the magnificent B, who I gratuitously worship!!****

**hilaRy:**

Awww... I'm sowwy.... [big, teary eyes] I just couldn't resist... It's too much fun!!

No Blink/Mush valiant efforts yet, but they'll come... Maybe... XD XD XD

"VAUDEVILLE!" I NEED MORE BILLY!!!! AND BLINK/MUSH!!!! AND SPOT/RACE!!!!!!

Hell, I just need more "VAUDEVILLE!"****

**Funkiechick:**

Any Spot/Race is good Spot/Race. A fact that we all agree on unanimously. Of course, if it's dirty... [suggestive grin]****

**Goddess of Oblivion:**

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR LIVIIIIIIIIIIIII... HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOOOUUUUUUU!!!

[throws confetti] 

T.T I'm so flattered...****

**Nerikla:**

[falls over] @.@ Whoa... Another writer I gratuitously worship...

Thanks for the compliments...****

**Sinhe:**

"Sexpot" is a fun word. So is "gratuitous". The English language is such an oddly pleasing thing...

Sheep milk cheese.

XD XD****

**Androgynish:**

WE ARE THE NEO-SHAKESPEREANS!!!!!! BOW BEFORE OUR ADJECTIVICAL GENIUS!!!!!****

**Thanks go to: Thistle, Stage, Stardust, kellyanne, and Artemis-chan of Redwing, who I will try to reply to later. It's really late, and I have school, and my mother's getting pissed, so... I'll try, though! I really will!! **

I LOVE YOU GUYS!!! Your support keeps me alive!!!!!


	8. Chapter Seven: Complicated Matters

**Disclaimer: If I owned "Newsies"... They'd _be _here.**

**Matchmaker: Chapter Seven**

**Complicated Matters**

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

I'm in love with Race.

Damn it.

And so is Pie Eater.

Damn it.

Well, not with Race, with Snoddy, as far as I can see, but _still..._

Damnit.

Mush and Kid haven't reconciled, and they're both still mad at me, and everything's all gloomy except where Pie's concerned 'cause he's in love with Snoddy, and it's so obvious, and he's upset 'cause Mush and Kid are mad at each other, and it's just a bad time for romance, especially around those two, and then I found out, or more like finally admitted, I guess, that I'm in love with Race, and...

_Damn_ it!

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

Mush and Kid Blink are still fighting. Well, actually, Mush is scared of Blink, and he's mad at me for it. The poor boy's completely heartbroken, and instead of crying his eyes out, like anyone would suppose he'd do, he went the other way and started stomping around and slamming doors all over the place. Blink is just as frightened of Mush for completely different reasons, but _he's_ mad at me, too, 'cause... Well... _Blink_. He's always mad at somebody, but that somebody's never been Mush, and I suppose he just doesn't know _how_ to be mad at Mush. So now he's mad at me. And I'm the only one who's willing to try and get them to just _talk_, the flaming idiots. But I'm unmentionable territory around them, so everything from my name to my hair is completely off-limits around them, unless you've got a death wish, you know what I mean?

And then there's Pie. Sweet, quiet Pie, who almost never talks and is shy as anything around just about everyone. After all this melodrama between Spot and Race and Mush and Blink, I've gotten pretty good at noticing things, you know what I mean? And that boy is completely _smitten with Snoddy, you take my word for it. I feel awful for him, 'cause he likes Blink and Mush well enough - they're Blink and Mush... Everybody likes them, even Spot - and... Well..._

Blink and Mush haven't just been fighting. They've been competing. "Who Can Get the Most Girls in the Least Amount of Time", I believe is the proper name for their game. And not only that, they're _nasty about it. And by nasty, I mean __nasty. They have been studiously ignoring each other, so they're not openly feuding. Well, they are, but not directly. Like, they'd sit next to each other with their latest girls and hurl very, very indiscreet insults at each other. I feel quite bad for all the girls they've managed to terrify, and it's no small number, either. Any other time, I'd say something, but this time... Things are different, and if this is the only way those two boneheads know how to work it out, then so be it. And the kicker is, even through all of _that_, it's quite clear that what they want most is each other. At least, it's clear to me; most everybody else is just thoroughly bewildered by this sudden change in behavior, which may be the only blessing, except for Race, who Mush had confided in first. As far as I know, Mush hasn't been too happy with him, either._

He pulled to one side the other day. "What's been happenin' with Mush and Blink?" 

I could only sigh. "Remember that day you came home and found me?"

He nodded. "Crying" was clearly tacit, and I am the last person living in this lodging house to ever admit to crying. 

"Well, they got in a fight. Mush asked me to 'scout Blink out', as he says. I did it, 'cause it's Mush, you know, and Blink told me he'd consider datin' Mush. But you know Blink... He talks before he thinks, and when Mush _really_ asked him, he exiled Mush from his life." I sighed again. "And now they're mad at me 'cause Mush thinks I lied to him, and Blink thinks I set him up so Mush could play a joke on him, and..." I sighed for a third time and rubbed my temples. "I really don't know what to do with 'em."

He whistled, looking slightly amused. "So that's why Mush stopped talkin' to me..." His expression sobered, and he said seriously, "Make 'em talk, Sneaks. Make 'em talk."

"And how am I gonna do that, huh?" I demanded. 

"How did you make me talk to Spot?" he asked mildly, smiling that slight smile again.

I groaned. "You weren't _mad at me, Race! I had to drag you to Brooklyn, sure, but you weren't lookin' to kill me in the most painful way possible."_

He only grinned. "Well, I didn't tell Mush to talk to you for no reason... You'll find a way." With that, he kissed me on the cheek and left.

I could only stand and feel my heart rise and bloom. It was almost a good day, as I watched his adorably short figure disappear through the crowd, whistling some bawdy tune on the way towards Sheepshead. 

And Brooklyn.

And Spot.

And my heart dropped. The euphoria his kiss had brought on collapsed until not a trace was left, and I stood there, concentrating on the acute pain brought on by realization.

I was in love with Race. And he was in love with Spot, who was equally in love with him.

And I had brought them together.

Normally, I would go to Race and rant, and he'd listen and nod and say, "Want to get a few drinks? It's on me." But I couldn't talk to Race because it was about him. The obvious second choice here would be Mush, who couldn't be bothered at the moment and especially not by me. Which left... No one. And this new revelation only served to sharpen the pain and drive it deeper somewhere in my heart of hearts. 

I was utterly alone, and it was my fault. Everyone I might have depended on, I'd driven away. Race... I'd _handed him over without a second thought, and Mush... Mush was still a possibility, if I could convince him that I hadn't lied. Which shouldn't be hard, considering that it's the truth, but Mush could be __damned stubborn when he wanted to be. I resolved at that moment that I would whack him around the head with a two by four if I had to, if only to make him see some sense. With that thought, I straightened my shoulders and turned towards Bottle Alley, where Mush had started lurking after the Fight. And who should I see but Pie, slinging an arm around Snoddy's shoulders, grinning fit to burst, and blushing to the roots of his hair. I suppose Snoddy attributed that last little bit to the early summer heat, but I knew better. Maybe my senses were sharpened somewhat by the pain, but I also knew from looking that they weren't __together. And that Pie dearly wished it were so. _

Another thing on my to-do list. But it would have to wait. This thing between Mush and Blink must be resolved first.

As I walked along, I realized that Race was right. It wasn't me that Mush needed to talk to. It was Blink. And they had to make their peace with each other. But to accomplish that, I would have to make _my peace with both Mush __and Blink. Call me prideful if you want, but I was certainly not going to apologize first for something I didn't even do. On both cases, nonetheless. _

So I was left with this. I needed to get Mush and Blink together somewhere where they could talk, _alone_. No distractions. Then, I needed to talk to Pie and hope that he had more brains that Mush and Blink did. _Combined_. That would be nice. As for my own dilemma with Race... That could wait. And whatever ensued, as long as it was fair, I would make no complaints. 

I hate my life.

[winces] Okay... I know that was extremely short for such a long wait, but I've been busy, and I _had_ thought to finish chapter two of "Blood Red Rose" before I posted another chapter of "Matchmaker", but unfortunately, it's a no go. However, I will say that "Blood Red Rose" is coming along nicely, and I've finally gotten some good mood music for it, so be looking for that. And "Ashes", which I'm finally starting. 

Other than that, a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Polecat!!! Luffles, sweetie!!

Oh, and November is National Novel Writing Month, which I will be participating in, so don't expect much them. Unless I decide to finish this, which is highly unlikely, so... Yeah.

**Gothic Author**

**Replies:**

**shinigami nanoda:**

Hmm... I'm usually wary of female original characters, too. I try my hardest to steer away from Mary-Sues, and I'm glad I'm doing it right.

Thanks, hon!! Appreciate it!

**Artemis-chan of Redwing:**

Yes. Yes, it does. And it's not getting better anytime soon. 

Love ya, too!!****

**Sita-chan:**

Oh, my genius who came up with "But I'm a Prep", you flatter me too much. 

YAY FOR LOVERLY WRITING-NESS!!!! WOOT!!****

**Thistle:**

EHEH... I didn't really update soon, I suppose, but I hope you like this chapter... And yes, Blink is a little jackass, and I love him for it. [ruffles Random!Blink's hair fondly]****

**Pyromaniacal Llama:**

Of course!! I mean... Race!! How can you _not_ want to hug him?! 

[sighs and melts into a fangirl-y puddle]****

**Funkiechick:**

Exactly. Blink and Mush are _so_ perfect for each other. But they're stupid, and I like StupidBlind!Newsies. They're so much fun to play with.

"CONCERTO"!!!!!!! 'Cause I trust you guys with "Everything You've Done Wrong". ^_^****

**Dakota-Jones:**

DAKOTA!! [huggles] Love you, hon... You're great, you know that?****

**studentnumber24601:**

XD XD Fully funtional, huh? I don't doubt that... [dirty smirk] 

I have my smrt days, too. "3 x 6 = 24... Right? Oh!! Is _that why I got it wrong?" It doesn't matter. It matters that you're an uber-fantastico writer with a fanclub!! ****_

**Stage:**

I knew I heard "2 x 4" _somewhere_ before I wrote this chapter... You don't mind that I borrowed it, do you?

Luffles, Stage!! Hope your eye feels better... 

Contacts suck sometimes.

**Goddess of Oblivion:**

Nope. Nope, she doesn't get a break. And she'll _never_ get a break, as far as I'm concerned. 

I'm so evil...

[sighs] No more hints from now on... I'm almost depressed...****

**Spider Chick:**

Awww... [blushes] Shucks, you're making me big-headed... Thanks, dahling...

**The Omnicient Bookseller:**

[bows] You're wish is my command.

**Sinhe:**

I think you _must_ have a sadistic streak if you're going to be a good author. It ruins everything if you don't. Like "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix". Imagine if everyone had lived. How horrible would the story be then?

GAH. I can't make Race anything _but_ a hopeless romantic, I fear, 'cause I love him too much. And it's weird. I just woke up one morning and said, "Racetrack is cute. I like him." 

I'm completely serious.****

**hilbz:**

[sighs in relief] I was pining after your review, Hilz... No lie. 

How's the "reconstruction" coming? I'll safe-keep a copy of your stuff, if you want.

And yes, Mush is frightening when he's mad, which is why I made him thus. He doesn't get enough anger, the poor boy, and he deserves some good, hard venting time. 

Luffles!!

**Thanks go to: Everybody who reviewed. I love you all madly!!! **


	9. Chapter Eight: Talking Gets the Ball Rol...

**Disclaimer:** If I owned "Newsies", there would be more girl characters, sure, but the guys would have a nice time with each other, too. ****

****

**

Matchmaker: Chapter Eight

**

**

Talking Gets the Ball Rolling

******

Right. Bottle Alley. As soon as you walk around the corner, just grab Mush and slam him against the wall and _make him listen_. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

It didn't work. 'Cause, you know, Mush is about five times as big as me, for one, and for two... It just didn't work.

I saw him, and I marched right up like I'd planned to, but then he saw me, and his smile just dropped off his face like a mask. It really hurt. I mean, I was sort of mad at him for putting me through this and not believing me when I was so obviously telling the truth, but when someone who was once one of your best friends just stops smiling and starts glaring around you... It ain't nice.

But anyway, despite all that, I march right up to him anyway, and I start right into it, like I usually do. "Mush. We gotta talk."

He scowls real heavy like and purposely turned away from me, waving his pape in the air. Nobody came by, though. They must've figured that Mush and I were having a lover's spat or something, which, really, is quite funny if you're in the mood to think about it. "No, we don't."

"Yeah, we do."

"_No_, we _don't!_"

"_Yeah_, we _do!_"

He just stared at me for a moment. "No, we don't."

At this point, I started feeling pretty stupid repeating the same thing over and over again, so I tried heading in another direction. "Look, you never gave me the chance to tell you the whole story..."

The anger licked under his face, straining to unleash itself, and he snorted, turning away. "What else is there to say?"

I could feel the fire rush through my veins. He'd woken my inner dragon. I moved so that he was facing me again. "What else is there to say? _What else is there to say?!_ Mush! Think about it! Who are we dealin' with here?!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Blink."

"Right... And what is Blink famous for?"

His face darkened again. "Being an inconsiderate asshole."

"Well..." That made me stop. I mean, it wasn't untrue, but... It was just such an un-Mush thing to say. "Well, all right, fine... He's pretty bad about that, too, but he never thinks before he talks, right?"

He snorted again. "You can say that again." And the smile on his face was so bitter, so pained, that I really felt bad for him for a moment. And strangely enough, I respected him a hell of a lot more.

I think we'd all underestimated the kid.

"Right, so didn't you ever think that maybe he was more levelheaded with me than with you? Especially since my question was hypothetical and yours was actually _the_ question?"

He whirled around. "So?! So what about it?! When you asked him, and he gave you that answer - if he really gave it to you - that means that he thought about it then. If he'd already thought about it, why would he say somethin' different to me? Huh?! Why?!"

All right. So I'd _really_ underestimated the kid. But what could I tell him? I mean, how the hell am I supposed to know what goes on in Blink's head?

"Why don't you just go and ask Blink?"

He laughed, a mirthless little exhalation. "Well, if the bonehead would stay still long enough to listen, I would, wouldn't I?"

Well. _That_ was a development. I frowned. "You've tried talkin' to him already?"

"Of course! One of the first things I did! Whaddaya take me for?" He gave that little laugh again and shook his head. "Don't answer that... It's pretty damn obvious, isn't it? You all think that I'm nice and that I'm not the brightest guy around. And maybe I'm not. Hell, I _know_ that. But that don't mean that I don't know anything, you know?" He smiled at me then, and it was a profoundly lopsided affair. Something - I think it was the set of his eyes - about that expression looked older, more aware than I'd ever given him credit for.

I sighed and dropped onto the curb next to him. "Well, what can I say, Mushy-boy? I mean, all the _smiling_ and the _laughter_... Smart people don't laugh! They're too busy lookin' down on everyone else. Just look at Conlon! And you know what? We like you that way. I mean, if _you_ looked down on everyone all the time, it'd be like Race never smilin' again. And God knows what would happen then." I silently apologized to Spot, who I was liking better these days. All right. Not really. But I... appreciated his humility, just let me put it that way.

But me and Mush, we smiled at each other for the first time in weeks, and it felt good. It was good enough that it turned into grins and then bubbled over into laughter. Yeah... That was the best feeling in the world, it was. I supposed that I'd been forgiven, in some weird, underhanded sort of way. But that didn't explain everything.

"Mush?"

"Yeah?"

"Why were you so mad at me? I mean, why were you so convinced that I'd lied to you?"

He frowned again, but it was a soft frown; the frown of one in thought instead of anger. "I dunno... I think... I think I just didn't wanna believe you at first. And then it was... Just... Have you ever felt anythin', and you just wanted to hold on to it for some reason?"

"Sure."

"It was like that."

"Why the hell would you want to remember being mad?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "It was so refreshing, for me, 'cause I hadn't been mad in such a long time."

I didn't get it. How was being angry refreshing? And wasn't not being mad a good thing? But I decided not to press it. Who knows? I could grow a brain and learn to understand it one day. Ain't likely, but... Who knows?

But in the meanwhile, we had something more important to do. I stood and brushed myself off a little. Damn streets got so dusty and all that. "Come on. Let's go and talk to Blink."

He followed me up and stretched. "Huh. If the bastard doesn't run."

"I don't think he will. This has gone on long enough, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah... _I_ think that. _You_ think that. But that ain't never stopped Blink before."

I stared at the sky for a moment. It was a very pretty blue today, that pure, cloudless, rich kind of blue. "Yeah, well... We'll just have to convince him to listen, won't we?"

Mush smiled. "Of course. 'Cause, I mean, it's me and you. How could he resist?"

I burst out laughing, and we walked away, arm in arm. The sun seemed all the brighter for it.

Well! The first update in half a year... What do you know! I'm not dead, after all!

So sorry about the delay, my dears... But you know, after writing and re-writing that "Blood Red Rose" chapter, I just decided to give up on it for now. It's one of those "I know the plot but not how to get it on paper" things. So I have decided to return to my epic fluff. It's so much more simpler.

Anyway, I'll try to keep up with it from now on. Which will probably be a lie, knowing me. But I'll try. Really.

**Gothic Author**

**Replies:**

**Omni:**

Yes, they should. [nods]

And with this wait, the memory of this story has been obliterated, hasn't it? XD XD

Wow... I'm so loser-esque.

**studentnumber24601:**

Pie/Snoddy. I don't know where that came from. I think it's their names being in succession when Jack starts sending his ambassadors out. [scratches head] Have I inadvertantly created a new pairing? [rubs hands] I should exploit it, then... MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...HA... Ha... Herm...

Right...

**kellyanne:**

ACK! I'm sorry! I really am!

Um... Delayed reaction? [sheepish smile]

**Thistle:**

[sighs] It'll take awhile yet, lovey... I'm sorry to say that the computer I had it on went down. Apparently, the disk was the reason. So... Looks like complete reconstruction.

Maybe I should do it by, you know, hand this time, since I seem to lose it so much...

**Pyromaniacal Llama:**

[blushes like a maniac] Aww... Thanks... I... I... Aw, I'm speechless.

**Artemis-chan:**

[bows a la Jack Sparrow] At your service, cherie! Of course, I didn't really resolve that conflict, did I...?

**hilary:**

RECONSTRUCTION HAS BEGUN!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

[lovehuggleglomp] You're wonderful, darling! We should talk more...

**janus_44:**

Um... It's coming soon! I promise. Kind of. Er... But they'll be happy, cause if they weren't, it wouldn't be fluff, would it? ^_^

**Thanks go to:** All of you. Je t'aime!


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